


Bound

by huntedjunker



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Abuse, Disturbing Themes, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Torture, M/M, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Torture, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-02
Updated: 2018-04-02
Packaged: 2019-04-17 21:06:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 472
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14197692
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/huntedjunker/pseuds/huntedjunker
Summary: Tied to a chair and blindfolded, Junkrat has no idea why Roadhog is preparing to subject him to indescribable punishments.





	Bound

Every breath he took seared his throat; panic had set in, leaving him a little lightheaded, his thinking process impaired to snatches of different beginnings and endings based on whatever this was. _Why_ Roadhog _had done it._

The office chair swung slightly under Junkrat’s weight with every little twitch or stronger squirm, the ropes binding his arms behind his back and secured to the chair around the backrest – his prosthetics doffed, the ropes were tight around his chest and shoulders. The rest of him had been left unrestrained, his lower half free to move – which amounted to frantic side-to-side squirms on the seat, an infuriating tease of false freedom. There was no slack, no give whenever he had tried to loosen the ropes; they cut sharply into his ashen skin whenever he had tried. The harsh reek of mixed gunpowder and human sweat stung his dry airways; perspiration soaked his cargoes, the soot had smeared on his glossy exposed skin, his harness taken away. It wasn’t from the heat, it was from the stark fear Junkrat was suffering.

The blindfold didn’t help things. Completely blind, the junker stared into pitch darkness, his head dropped to face his lap, making small noises whenever his body spasmed in terror. Recognising that in spite of the little strength he had left, struggling to relax the blindfold with constant head-shakes was another hopeless feat. Shifting back and forth on the chair’s seat didn’t show any promising improvements no matter **what** he did, _small_ movements or _wild_ ones. The scavenger’s belt had ridden further down one hip, his lean body in his struggles coiled like a wound spring, his chest and stomach rising and falling erratically as he hyperventilated, terror seeping in to poison his thoughts.

Panting, the taste of dried blood caked along his lips and the curve of his jaw, Rat was straining to listen to any cues from Hog – his supposed ally, his _partner_ , his _loyalty_ and _**harmlessness**_ taken for granted. _How_ gullible _the younger junker was._ Rat had no memory of how he came to be in this room; why his bodyguard had designed this bondage. The throb of what he reckoned to be a bruise spreading on the side of his face was growing painful in his condition - he hadn’t accepted the idea that _Roadhog_ had struck him, and planned all this. Whatever was to come, there were a million and one things Rat had already thought of - Roadhog was capable of _anything_.

_The question, was why? What could possibly excuse this?_

“ _Please_ , Hog, I — _I_ **thought** _we —_ ,”  he whined despairingly, his heartrate pounding hard in his ears. A fast pulse was clearly visible along the taut slope of his neck, his muscles clenching as he swallowed to lubricate his mouth and speak clearer, his voice hoarse.

“ _I thought we were mates.”_


End file.
